Parallel
by Tophlet
Summary: Ed and Al had been inseparable since childhood, near equals in both alchemical and physical skill. Neither of them understood why The Truth decided Ed was more valuable, but they were just as determined as ever to keep moving. The fact that Al was the one who held a State Alchemist's certification didn't make much difference to either of them.
1. Chapter 1

Rumors of the Fullmetal Alchemist spread around Amestris like wildfire. Most who hadn't met the man himself passed those rumors off as an urban legend. The tales were simply too outlandish to entertain as fact. A man, 7-feet-tall, who spent all of his time in a majestic set of armor, running around the country side helping innocents? Please. The official motto may be, "Alchemist, be thou for the people," but no one disputed the unofficial moniker: dog of the military.

Holding these understandably skeptic opinions in mind, one could easily see how long it would take a body's mind to catch up when a gleaming ton of steel passes in front of their eyes.

"Did you see that?"

"Do you think it's him?"

"Who?"

"The Fullmetal Alchemist!"

Once their brains started catching up, townsfolk would flock to meet him. The throng was often so thick it would hold up any traffic in town. That was before he even started _doing _anything. Soon enough people would run home to grab whatever they could find that needed fixing. Sometimes it was little things, sometimes they pleaded for more dramatic assistance. If the resulting fix was somewhat...eccentric, people tended not to mind. What was more amazing than his alchemical skill was that even in the throng of so many people he would manage to find the person most in need, no matter their size or age or lack of attempt to make themselves heard. "That is what makes him a truly great man," people would muse later, "He really cares, he really listens."

In the wake of such a commanding presence, most people would miss the quiet, modestly dressed young man that trailed behind. By the time the crowd would gather, he would have already slipped away. What people tended to forget was that even a do-gooding State Alchemist was a "dog of the military." More often than not, a State mandated assignment preceded visits to those sleepy little towns. So when attention turned to the eccentric, 7-foot, steel covered alchemist in the middle of town, the real Fullmetal Alchemist conducted his business with little notice.

Al found he didn't mind Ed hogging all the attention. It struck him as funny what people would tell him when they thought he didn't matter.


	2. Chapter 2

The tattoos were Al's idea. Ed kind of loved them.

Now, there were certain advantages to being an indefatigable hunk of soul-bound armor. Ed could fight longer and harder than any _body_ could. He was more than handy in a fight. But there were just some situations that called for a little more impact with the punch. When Al first approached him with this idea, Ed had to admit that his little brother had a point. Having learned the secret to making his own body a transmutation circle, Al couldn't imagine taking the time to draw one fresh in the midst of battle. And how chancy was it to carry chalk around? One missed landing and your only drawing tool would be crushed. Colonel Mustang had his gloves and Al had heard of other State Alchemists using prepared arrays, shouldn't Ed's alchemy be just as accessible?

The two spent _weeks_ pouring over research texts, deciding which transmutation circles would be the most useful, redesigning them until they finally got it right. By putting a different circle on each hand and various others around Ed's armored body, all he would need to do was choose which arrays to activate and bring together.

The work was careful and dutifully planned with the end result being more useful than either of them could have predicted...but after that first encounter with Scar, the brothers agreed they'd have to add a circle so Ed could reconstruct himself. Ed insisted because there was no way he'd ever let Al try to sacrifice himself again.


	3. Chapter 3

For as long as Al could remember, he'd been the better fighter. Well, he'd been better at a lot of things, if he was going to be honest. Even as children, he'd been the better Alchemist: capable of great delicacy and detail where Brother's style was more...utilitarian. At least, that's what he'd thought when they were kids. But now, every time he takes a closer look at his brother's alchemy Al finds another thing to learn. Ed's transmutations might be crude in shape at times, but there was no doubt they were strong. It made Al feel a little better about their whole situation. Maybe he was the only two of them who remembered everything about their trip through the gate, but it seems the truth he was shown wasn't a substitute for ingenuity and an iron will.

That iron will was currently kicking his butt in their spar.

"I can go easy on you if you want, Al," Ed _preened. _It was their first real fight since Al started acclaimating to his automail. Every spar before then had felt like a charity case and Al was tired of knowing Ed _let _him win. If he was going to get Brother's body back then Al didn't have time to be treated like a child. After the fifth sloppily dodged punch, Al demanded his brother stop babying him.

"No way," so maybe he was breathing harder than normal, "am I gonna lose to a _tin can_."

"Then come at me, you big baby!"

Despite the twinge in his automail housing, the pull and stretch of his muscles felt good and Al didn't bother holding back the grin. Despite Winry's insistence that the boys, "Take it easy!" complete with threats, they went at each other with gusto. This was the most normal they'd felt in months.

It was barely five minutes later when Ed stood over his winded brother's supine form with a taunting declaration of superiority. But as much as Ed outwardly reveled in his victory, he couldn't wait for Al to beat him again.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading.<strong> So far this is a collection of short stories revolving around the switched boys. Leave me a review if there's a certain moment or arc you'd like to read! Or just leave a review because you like me. Or just review.


	4. Chapter 4

Ed tried not to be prideful—well, OK, he didn't exactly try, but he knew that the way people reacted to him was all the result of his and Al's planning. The joy on their faces was a result of their plan to keep Al in anonymity...but it would be a lie to say that Ed didn't enjoy the attention. It was merited, it was warrented. He got to _show off._

Al knew this. So when the people of Reole brushed off Brother's big entrance like an annoying circus act and Ed wilted like a forgotten flower, Al dissolved into giggles.

"It's not funny, Al."

Dissolved into stifled snickers.

"I said it's not funny!"

Dissolved into rolling, full blown guffaws. Seriously, there may have been tears.

"Cut it out already!"

Al did his best, dodging some half-hearted blows. Seriously (kind of). Unfortunately, he lost his valiant battle against the throes of mirth, leaving his brother to follow a trail of chuckles to the food stand on the corner. Alright, alright...maybe it was kind of funny, "That was worse than Youswell," and Ed started to laugh, too, because he can't let Al have all the fun, "You'd think these people had never heard of Alchemy!"

They were starting to attract some scathing looks from the shop owner. He pointedly raised the volume on his small radio to be higher then that of their laughter. Al kept one ear on it because, really, the sermon's claims were why they were there, but he'd rather listen to his brother. Strangely resonant and tinny, Ed's laugh still sounded the best to Al's ears.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong> One of you lovely reviewers requested to see how the boys would handle Rose, so here is part one of...who knows.


	5. Chapter 5

"The power of miracles." That's what they called it: the trumped up, tasteless transmutations of a hack of an alchemist: a man too in love with his own lie to see past his own nose. People like that were simple, Al found. They'd believe what you wanted them to. It was the same in Youswell. Big egos expected people to fall in line; they only got dangerous when they thought you were a threat.

So getting into Father Cornello's backyard was child's play. A sweet girl with earnest intentions led Al straight to him.

_"It's just, well...my arm. Do you think...can your god make me whole again?"_

Her name was Rose and the false prophet had her eating from the palm of his hand, leading her on with shoddy promises and paper thin excuses. She was more than willing to introduce the two of them, sure that Al could be healed after he embarked on the journey to enlightenment. Misleading her left a sour taste in his mouth, and when he met the founder of Letoism his "interest" had been a little weak, definitely not his best performance. It was lucky for Al that Father Cornello was a showman. And showmen, by definition, love to put on a show.

"My boy," he'd said, magnanimous and slimy and enough to make Al sick, "I will show you the power of miracles."

Al's front row seat to Father Cornello's public demonstration showed him everything he expected to see. The ring he wore was an alchemical amplifier and if only Al could get a closer look...

The crowd was eating it up, each transmutation entrenching them in the madman's clutches. Al grinned at the gleaming suit of armor across the square.

Cornello beamed, drunk on his audience. "Behold, the power of go-"

"Oh ho ho! Behold," boomed a voice from beyond the crowd, "the power of alchemy!" In the bright light of transmutation, a statue sprung from the ground.

Cornello may have had an amplifier, but Ed had always had _panache _and disrespect for authority. It took him less than a minute to catch Cornello in a bizarre game of showmanship. Alphonse learned a long time ago that shear power didn't mean much when pitched against Ed's bullheaded creativity.

The Fullmetal Alchemist bid his time, gauging his countdown by the shade of rage on Cornello's face. When it skyrocketed from fuchsia, bypassing maroon altogether on its way to purple, Al was ready.

"Heathen!" the madman screamed, "You think your alchemy can compare with the power of god?" He looked down at Al with a fierce expression and the young alchemist saw the gears turning. With a smug grin, the priest announced to the crowd, "This young boy has lost his arm in a terrible accident and has suffered under the burden of blasphemous automail! I, Father Cornello, the messenger of the sun god Leto, will restore it now before your very eyes!"

The crowd stood in a hush, poised upon the outcome of the duel.

Rose stood in shock. Her vision shrunk down to two figures: one she'd hoped to save and one she'd trusted would save her. Everything she thought she knew started to tilt sideways. Her heart screamed in betrayal, drowning out the parts of her that insisted she be happy the boy would have his arm back. She'd believed it would happen when he asked her but never...never so _soon_. Months, maybe, after he'd prayed and begged and pleaded. Not now. Not without a single 'no.' No, 'no,' was always _her_ answer despite all of her prayers and all of her devotion. 'No,' was the answer despite the pain ripping her apart every day she was denied. Maybe that was the truth. Maybe 'no' was the only answer he'd ever planned on giving her.

Cornello laughed at the man he called a heathen with vainglorious scorn. He turned to the blond boy before him whose palms kissed as if in prayer. "Oh, thank-you!" the Al cried, latching his hands on the prophet's own in a great show of gratitude."I don't know how I'll ever-"

"Liar!" Betrayal bubbled over in a course shriek. Rose could only hear the thundering pulse of blood and her own breathing, but the sight of Father Cornello's eyes wide with shock spurred her on, "All this time! I've been patient and waiting and praying _all this time!"  
><em>  
>Her cries lent some sort of energy to the crowd, mutters started here and there, meeting and growing as Rose stalked towards the so-called father, "You promised that if I prayed, if I was devout, Leto would give him back!"<p>

Cornello fought hard to keep the rapid desperation from his eyes. The situation was crumbling beneath his feet. He excelled in deceptive performance, not quickfire improvisation. The seeds of dissension were spreading throughout the townsfolk with Rose at the epicenter. It was a shame. He'd liked her, she was useful to keep around as a good example. With a sigh he plastered on a smile and laid a hand to her tear stained cheek.

"My child," he intoned, "The lord _has_ heard you. Your diligent offerings have reached Leto's ears. If you return to the sanctuary with Brother Cray, you will be rewarded." Rose at once both calmed down and became more agitated, anxious at the prospect of seeing her restored lover. Cornello had always thought her a useful follower, but the look he gave Brother Cray as he lead her away was clear. She was no longer necessary.

The flourish with which he returned to the crowd was somewhat grand, but he needed to recapture their attention and he was confident he _could_ restore the boy's arm.

But...he seemed to have gone missing. The heathen had gone quiet as well and as he struggled to reclaim the tense mood of the crowd he realized why. His ring, the _stone was gone._

* * *

><p>Alphonse was so excited he was nearly shaking. They'd waited so, <em>so<em> long for this and it was right here in the palms of his hands. A philosopher's stone. He'd gotten a brief glimpse of its makeup when he'd slipped the ring off of Cornello's finger, but only enough to know that it deserved _hours and hours_ of study. He hadn't banked on Rose making such a convenient diversion but he wasted no time getting away. To be truthful, guilt gnawed at his mind. As soon as he met back with Ed he would insist they find her to apologize.

Soon enough Al heard the telltale thunder of his brother's running footsteps.

"Al! Come on, let's go!"

He quickly fell into step, pushing double time to keep up with Ed's strides, "Where are we going?"

"Back to the church, I think Cornello's going to do something to that girl!"

"What? Why?"

"That bastard told her he brought someone back from the dead!"

All at once Al understood the urgency. The amplifier was powerful, true enough, but he'd seen it up close in action. It was powerful, probably powerful enough to get Ed's body back, but it wouldn't bring back the long dead. There would be only one reason for Cornello to tell her so.

He slipped the red stone into his vest pocket. It could wait.

* * *

><p>By the time the brothers made it back to the church square, the crowd was on the verge of riot. Some of Cornello's followers were trying to quell the people with little success.<p>

The two boys slipped into the building from the side, making their way through dark corridors until finding their way to the sanctuary. Ed snorted at the gargantuan statue of Leto in disgust, shushed immediately by Al. Quiet sobs echoed in the space all around them. Rose sat collapsed in a heap in front of the altar, oblivious to anything but her own pain. The boys edged along the side of the room pew by pew, eyes on the shadows. Al raced to her side as soon as Ed gave him the all-clear. Her hands were held in place by the crudely transmuted floor. It took the work of a second to release her but it would take much longer to convince her to move.

No amount of cajoling on Al's part roused her up, but as he looked to Ed for assistance his blood ran cold.

There was the _cock_ of a revolver and the _bang _of combustion multiplied by the ring of ricochet. Armor _clanged _with a hollow _thud: _metal fell between wooden pews.

"I don't negotiate, boy," Cornello stated without preamble, "Give it back."

The small sounds of gears straining and metal grinding barely registered in the space: fist clenched without the limits of flesh and bone.

Al could hear Cornello's men moving in, but his eyes never swayed from the enigmatic madman at the far end of the room. Men like him were all the same. They liked to hear themselves talk and they always wanted an audience. It would have been just as easy for his henchmen to kill both brothers at once but then there would be no one to listen. Even without an amplifier this bastard would be child's play.

"You want it back?" Al felt the crackle of energy in his pocket _begging_ to be set free. Rage boiled under his skin. "And you'll do what? Kill me? Kill Rose?"

The false prophet looked smug from beyond the circle his henchmen had made around the young alchemist.

"Hand it over," he said, "And you can _join_ me. I don't have to kill the girl. You could have her if you want." Cornello was a cat and the canary was within reach of his claws. He never expected his prey to start laughing.

"That's it?" Al responded with savage mockery, "_Join_ you?"

"Stop that! Why are you laughing?!"

The smile on the boy's face bordered on madness, "My name is Alphonse Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Cornello's eyes widened in trepidation, measuring the depth of muck in which he'd just landed himself. He'd heard the rumors and stories. The State Alchemist was formidable if they were true but they'd always revolved around a large man in armo—oh. Oh shit.

"And my brother is right behind you."

* * *

><p><strong>Bam. Part 2 of 3.<strong> Thanks for the feedback and reviews :) Sure love you guys. Oh! And I have a surprise for you. There should be a picture of human!Al linked to my profile soon. I'll include the link in the next update for sure but keep your eyes peeled.


End file.
